


Back to the Real World

by DreaminginCabeswater



Category: Penryn & the End of Days - Susan Ee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:44:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3915133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreaminginCabeswater/pseuds/DreaminginCabeswater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU. The world is slowly rebuilding after the Angel Apocalypse - around the angels. Penryn starts college and immediately encounters a tall, dark and handsome angel. Will he be able to win her over? Or will her stubborn streak prevail?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Late to Class

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Penryn and the End of Days series or any of the wonderful characters. They are property of Susan Ee.

Penryn parked her beat up Toyota between a pile of rocks that used to be a sidewalk and another car that looked like it had seen better days, carefully balancing her equally beat up cell phone between her ear and shoulder. Everything was beat up now days.

“Yes mom-” Penryn said, grabbing her backpack from the passenger seat and hitching it over her free shoulder, as she exited the car and slammed the door. 

Penryn sighed, blowing a stray strand of dark hair out of her face and securing her backpack across both shoulders. Before her loomed a cluster of large red bricked buildings against a perfect blue sky. From the distance, Penryn could see that the bricks were marred by sooty ash and pitch black scorch marks. Fissures ran up some of the buildings like veins, threatening to crumble what was left standing into a pile. In place of perfectly maintained landscaping, now stood barren trees, blackened, broken and bent, scrubby bushes that reminded Penryn of tumbleweeds from old Westerns she used watch on TV, and little sprouts of green breaking through the crumbly earth like a fresh breath of air. 

“Okay mom-” Penryn sharply inhaled, wishing her mother would just get off the phone already. Penryn’s mother had never been okay. She was always a little paranoid and high-strung, enough so she used to take medicine, but since the Angel Attacks and no medicine, Penryn’s mother had crossed the line into certifiable. She demanded to talk to Penryn, constantly reminding her of what she needs to do if the “demons” should call on her. Penryn could never get a word in edge-wise. 

“Mom-” 

“Mom-”

“Mom!” Penryn hated to raise her voice, but sometimes drastic times called for drastic measures. “Mom,” she said more gently. “I understand that you are worried, but everything will be okay. I’ve already dropped Paige off at school, and I am here at Stanford, walking to class, and I’m going to be late if I can’t let you go.” 

Penryn continued her trek toward the inner part of the cluster, bypassing groups of students socializing and piles of debris. The juxtaposition of something as normal as socializing young adults next to such a stark reminder of what the world was coming out of was odd to Penryn. Stanford University used to be the epitome of higher education. Just the place Penryn always dreamed of going. She even kept a brochure secretly stashed under her mattress to look at while daydreaming. But in this world, it was the only local university still standing - well partially standing, and everyone that wanted to go back to school went here. Once Obi’s regime took control of the California government and the Angels decided to back off, getting an education system up and running was priority just after running water, electricity, telecommunications, and medical stations. 

“I promise, mom,” Penryn said swearing she would call when she was on her way home. Penryn sighed, tucking her phone into the pocket of her jeans and pulling a piece of paper from her back pocket. 

“21B,” Penryn mumbled to herself looking at the paper. She was going to her first class, and she was as good as late. The sun hung a little off center overhead and groups of people milled about the large quad Penryn just entered. It reminded her of the world before, when people had lunch dates and sat quietly under large trees reading books. The constant hum of conversation was a comfort to her. The quad was a contrast to the outside of the school. Here trees had been replanted and grown from saplings to substantial shade trees. Green bushes and various shades of flowers dotted beds lining the sidewalks. People lounged on benches reading, talking and laughing. Penryn couldn’t help but smile at how far the world had come. 

Looking across the quad, she spotted a group of guys with wings, and Penryn’s smile faded, replaced by a thin, set line across her hardened face. When the Angels backed off and decided to let humans take control of the world again, they had one stipulation: that they be allowed to stay. They promised to be on their best behavior and protect humans from any other-worldly forces that should arrive. The government had no other choice - no freedom or an illusion of freedom? Obi, of course, went for the later choice. Penryn couldn’t blame him, but she didn’t have to like it. Her family had only barely survived the Angel Apocalypse, hiding out in their apartment. Had it lasted a week longer, Penryn was sure they would have all starved. Starvation would have been the least of her worries in light of everything else, but Penryn willed her mind away from those painful memories. 

As she continued walking to class, Penryn couldn’t take her eyes off the Angels masquerading as human students, laughing and high-fiving each other while wings of various colors hung effortlessly behind their backs. She clutched the straps of her backpack tighter and clinched her jaw, anger spread throughout her body. 

“Ooof.” All the air rushed from Penryn’s lungs in a single exhalation. Her body flew backwards as if she was a rubber ball ricocheting off a wall. Penryn wondered if she did run into a wall as she lay huddled on the concrete floor, gasping for air, her arms wrapped loosely around her middle. Had she not been in so much pain, Penryn was sure her cheeks would have flushed red from embarrassment. When a shadow covered her, she was positive she was about to faint. 

“You okay?” A deep masculine voice asked from above her. The source of the shadow Penryn realized. 

Penryn craned her head up and around, squinting into the bright sun, seeing only a silhouette of a man’s face. Penryn could only grunt. Lovely, her first day at school, college no less and she had already succeeded in running into a wall, turning into a cave woman, and embarrassing herself profusely. She buried her head back under her arms against the concrete, willing the world to go away. 

“Are you dead, because you know I could just leave you here?” The shadow quipped. 

This time Penryn looked up, finally catching her breath, and said, “Might as well be.”

“Oh it wasn’t that bad,” he said reaching a hand out to Penryn. His hand encompassing hers as he pulled her to her feet.

Dusting herself off, Penryn felt her cheeks burn. “I can’t believe I just ran into a wall.”

“What wall?” the guy asked with a snicker. 

Penryn looked around. She stood near the corner of the quad surrounded by wide open space, nothing but benches and trees and sidewalk. A few people were glancing her way, but most were carrying on with their lives. Relief relaxed the tightly wound coil in her chest.

“Well, what the hell did I run into? Because I know I ran into something.” Penryn placed a hand over her heart, where she had felt the brunt of the impact. It still ached, but she shook it off, ignoring the pain. 

“Me,” he said matter-of-factly.

Penryn looked at the shadow, finally getting a good look at him. He was at least a foot and a half taller than her, but then again she was short, and he was built like the statues of Greek gods she had seen in the world before - broad shoulders, narrow hips, all lean lines and hard planes beneath the tight navy polo shirt he was wearing. Dark hair fell into his eyes and wound around his ears like gently curling vines. His deep blue eyes sparkling mischievously. 

“You?” Penryn raised an eyebrow in doubt.

“Yes. Me. I do that to all the ladies - knock them off their feet, sometimes right out of their shoes.” He smirked.

Penryn discreetly looked at her feet to make sure her boots were still on. She exhaled at seeing them still in place. The guy standing in front of her laughed a deep and melodic laugh that warmed Penryn to her core. She felt her cheeks burn again. 

“I’m going to assume you’re okay,” the guy said, a full smile lighting up his face. “I’m Raffe.” He extended a hand.

“Penryn,” she said taking his hand. “What kind of name is Raffe?”

“Short for Raphael, but the real question is what kind of name is Penryn?” He asked, raising his eyebrows, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“I was named after a highway exit,” Penryn said like she had been asked that same question her whole life. “Raphael? That’s kind of archaic isn’t it?”

“Well, I am an angel,” Raffe said rising and partially extending a pair of snowy white wings. 

Penryn’s first instinct was to run a hand through the downy feathers, her fingers twitching as her hand slowly lifted from her side, until her logical mind caught up to the fact that standing before her, flirting with her, touching her was an angel. Her mind shot back to the group of angels parading around like humans and a memory further back, and fire ignited in her chest. Penryn could feel all the color drain from her face and her eyes narrow. A cold sweat broke out across the back of her neck. She had never been this close to an angel, and she never wanted to be again. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Raffe asked, mocking her. 

“I’m late for class,” she replied tersely, turning and running toward the building opposite Raffe.


	2. Fight or Flight

The red bricked buildings blurred as Penryn ran past them, not knowing where she was going. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, her breathing shallow and quick, beads of sweat gathering at her temples and the base of her neck gently curling loose strands of hair. Penryn wasn’t sure why she was running; all she knew is that she needed to get as far away from that angel as possible. She thought she might be overreacting, but she just didn’t care. 

Reaching a small alcove tucked behind one of the restored buildings hidden from the bright mid-morning sun, Penryn finally stopped. She leaned against the side of the building, her forehead pressed to the bricks, their damp chill cooling her feverish skin. Penryn purposefully inhaled, willing her breathing to slow, the dank, earthy air of the alcove filling her nose and mouth. Her heart hammered against the inside of her sternum like a wild animal trying to escape a cage, blood and adrenaline buzzing in her ears, cloaking the outside world in darkness and silence. Maybe running after being pummeled by a man’s - no angel’s chest wasn’t the best of ideas. 

Slowly, Penryn’s muscles relaxed, her heart and breathing calming to a normal rhythm. She turned away from the wall, her arms wrapped around her chest protectively, and took a seat on a small concrete bench under an oak tree that looked like it was one of the only old trees to survive the angel onslaught. Its gnarled branches and blackened trunk looked like Penryn’s heart felt, crippled and paralyzed, fighting for life. She slid her face into her hands, her dark hair fully escaping the messy bun on top of her head and cascading around her face in a protective curtain. Penryn propped her elbows on her knees, feeling damp perspiration through the slightly torn jeans. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she refused to cry. 

She had cried so much before, holed up in their apartment, waiting for the end to come, but always in private. She could never let her mom or sister see her weak. She was strong. Their provider and protector. She had to be strong for them, but in the deep stillness of the night, in the privacy of her bedroom, she had cried until her eyes refused to release any more tears. Until her throat was raw and her chest burned with every breath she took. Her body shaking and her eyes red and puffy. She had cried too much. She promised she would never cry again. The angels had taken so much from her. Her dad’s face surfaced in her memories. A man with dark hair, streaked with gray, and warm brown eyes behind glasses, a friendly smile on his welcoming face. As quickly as it surfaced, it was quickly pushed away, back into the vault it had escaped. She wouldn’t allow them to take anymore from her. 

With a shaky breath, Penryn looked up, facing the world around her, her muscles trembling slightly from receding adrenaline. Thankfully, she was alone. The alcove quiet in the shadows of the building. If she hadn’t been so upset, this would have been a perfect place to sit and hide away from the world. 

She flashed back to the angel, what was his name again? Robbie? Rudy? Ralph? A silent, sarcastic laugh shook her shoulders. It had been high hopes, but she had thought for a moment, looking into his deep blue eyes, that life could get back to normal. Going to class, doing homework, pulling on a part time job, maybe even dating the Adonis-like demigod standing in front of her had floated across her mind, and for the first time in forever, Penryn felt hope blossom in her chest. A giddy excitement waking her veins. Then a pair of white wings doused her in a bucket of cold water. Why did he have to lift those damn wings? Why couldn’t she have just lived the lie for a few more moments? Penryn guessed it was true, take two steps forward, get knocked ten steps back. In her case, literally. 

Penryn’s hand instinctively shot to the achy bones of her chest, where she was certain a bruise would be tomorrow. What a way to start the first day of school. Penryn didn’t need to look at the clock on her phone to know she was already late to class. She debated just leaving for the day, but one thought of having to deal with her mother, put the brakes on that plan. Hiding out until her next class was promising, but she figured that she should just bite the bullet and go to her English class. Sighing, she pulled out her phone and noted that she was only fifteen minutes late.  
\----------------

Penryn slid quietly into a seat at the top of the slanted lecture hall of room 21B. The professor, a middle aged man with glasses, a paunch middle, and receding brown hair, was feverishly writing terms on a chalkboard and lecturing on an unknown topic in a posh British accent. 

Penryn pulled out a pen and spiral notebook, wanting to ignore her hellish morning and numb her mind by whatever the professor was droning on about. 

To her right, Penryn heard a whisper. “Hey. Trouble finding the room?” 

Penryn looked in the direction of the voice. In the chair next to her sat a girl, no older than Penryn, about eighteen, with wide, questioning pale blue eyes, a halo of golden corkscrew curls around her head, and skin the color of a latte.

“I guess you could say that,” Penryn whispered, worried she would call attention to herself. 

“Hi, I’m Kyra.” The girl, grinned, extending a hand. 

Penryn took it, smiling back. “Penryn. So what did I miss?”

“This dude is taking his job way too seriously. It’s like he missed working or something during AA.”

Penryn quirked an eyebrow. “AA?”

“Yeah. AA. The Angel Apocalypse.” Kyra explained. “Kind of fitting, huh?”

Penryn nodded. 

“Anyways, he didn’t even bother taking names. So you’re safe, Ms. Tardy. He just jumped into some lecture.” 

Kyra’s full lips turned up into a wide smile, her whisper taking on a posh British accent, mimicking the professor. “Books are to be appreciated and in order to do that we need to analyze the author’s work.” 

Penryn stifled a giggle with her hand. 

Kyra smiled and handed her a spiral bound notebook. “Here, you could probably use these.”

“Thanks,” Penryn said, taking Kyra’s notes. 

As the professor continued to drone on and on about American literature in the 1800s, Penryn looked around the room. The lecture hall was full. Young adults with hopeful looks of a promising future. Older adults weary and worn, but a fiery gleam of determination in their eyes. Then there were the angels. Penryn felt herself stiffen at the sight of muted blue and green and yellow wings. They could have been any other students, concentrating on the teacher’s words and scribbling notes on paper. Penryn wished they were.

Large, snowy wings flitted across her mind’s eye. 

Raffe. That was the angel’s name. 

Penryn could still feel his large, calloused hand encompassing her small hand. How his blue eyes made her think of the ocean at dusk right as the sun set beyond the horizon painting the waves black and blue with swirls of deep purple. Penryn couldn’t shake the feeling that Raffe was different from the other angels. There was no question about it, Raffe was devastatingly handsome, but it was something more than looks. It was a tug pulling deeply from within her that beckoned her to find him, talk to him, touch him, kiss him. She discretely shook her head. She didn’t like the feelings one bit, and with a bitter sigh she pushed the feelings down, down, down and turned her attention back to Kyra’s notes in front of her.

 

“Psst.” Kyra leaned toward her, her head almost against Penryn’s shoulder, concern knitting her thick eyebrows into a furrow. ”You okay?”

Penryn glanced sideways at Kyra, mustering a smile. “Yeah. Why?”

“You look like you saw a ghost. Didn’t know if it had something to do with…” Kyra trailed off, nodding her head toward the group of wings below them. 

Penryn stilled her face and thinly smiled. “No. I’m fine. Just tired.” 

Kyra patted her arm, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, her sparkling blue eyes dulling with sadness for just a moment. “I gotcha,” she said, lifting her chin toward Penryn, a thin New York accent coloring her words. 

Penryn’s thin smile broadened. It had been such a long time since she had hung out with friends, and now that all her friends from the world before were gone, either lost to the Apocalypse or just gone, she was starting to feel that familiar ache for camaraderie. Kyra, with her pleasant, light-hearted demeanor, was just the kind of friend Penryn wanted in the world after. A friend to help her forget the past, and Penryn was certain she could help Kyra with the same. 

The rest of the class went off without a hitch, and when the professor finished his lecture, Penryn stuffed her books back into her backpack and pulled out her schedule.

“What do you have next?” Kyra asked, peering over Penryn’s shoulder. Kyra was just slightly taller than Penryn’s five-foot frame.

“Biology 101,” Penryn said, turning toward Kyra. “You?”

“No such luck darling,” Kyra said, impersonating a Southern belle. “I have Theater!” She shot an arm into the air, posing dramatically.

“Thanks for the help today,” Penryn said. “Do you have plans for lunch?”

“Now I do.” Kyra smiled like a beauty queen, flashing her perfectly straight white teeth. “Meet you in the quad at noon?” 

Penryn couldn’t help but giggle at Kyra’s jovial nature. “See you there.”


	3. Elecricity and Feathers

Raffe watched Penryn scamper off toward the Sciences Building, a smudge of dark hair and pale skin in the bright sun. He had been sure she muttered, “21B,” just before she collided with him, and he was pretty sure she was going in the wrong direction. Turning away from Penryn and adjusting his books under his arm, Raffe wondered what had he done to frighten her? He smiled. Must have been his dashing good looks.

The smile faded as he glanced back toward the direction Penryn fled to, worry knitting his brows together. She was nowhere to be seen. What if he had really hurt her, and she didn’t want to let on that she was in pain. He shook the thought from his head. 

Raffe envisioned Penryn. How her soft black hair fell from the bundle on top of her head like dark water cascading from a waterfall at midnight. Her brown eyes shimmering with little flecks of green, gold, and orange that flared in the sunlight like an igniting match. The flush of pink across her creamy skin. He was almost certain she was fine, a little beat up, a little embarrassed, but still fine. 

Raffe replayed the whole scenario in his mind. He remembered how her petite frame encircled his own on impact, feeling like electricity and feathers against him. It jolted something alive in him. Looking down at her, his jaw ajar, shocked at how much this tiny curled up ball had caught him off guard, not physically, but in other ways, which was almost nearly impossible. As usual, he hid his awe behind sarcastic comments, but his wonderment only swelled when she opened her mouth to speak. Raffe could sense that Penryn was someone not to be messed with. That she was strong and stubborn and fiery. A blaze among the dull. 

He kept up the snarky tirade, playing with her, teasing her, but all he really wanted was to scoop her up in his arms and hold her against him until she was better. To bury his face in the crook of her neck, deeply inhaling her intoxicating fragrance, lilacs and cotton and sunshine, and kiss the embarrassment off her face until it was replaced with a new flush of a different nature. Raffe took a deep, shaky breath. He had never felt this way about anyone before - human or angel. He wasn’t even sure why, especially since they had just met. There was something about this Daughter of Man that intrigued him. Raffe promised to find out. He wouldn’t let this go. 

 

Raffe still wondered what would have caused her to run away like she did. She seemed to be enjoying the banter, a warm smile on her face, a playful hope in her dark eyes. She seemed fine until he raised his wings. His wings. Raffe understood then.

First her fingers twitched in wanting to touch them, but quickly her face paled and her eyes narrowed as if rage overtook her tiny frame, an imperceptible shiver shaking her muscles that only Raffe could see. Had an angel hurt her? Taken someone or something from her? Raffe exhaled sharply, clenching his fists at his side, anger smoldering in his chest. It only took a spark. 

Through his lifetime, and it had been a long lifetime, Raffe had been a bringer of doom and destruction. Angels, Demons, and people had all begged him for mercy, and he had not been merciful. When the Angels attacked the world, he had been stationed in California, and he had done his job perfectly. Thinking back to all the turmoil he created, caused his chest to constrict in remorse, unshed tears burning his eyes. He was under the impression that it was God’s work - or his boss’s command - Raffe still wasn’t sure where his belief rested. He was just being an exceptional Warrior angel, doing what he was commanded, but when the dust settled and the fires were quenched and the bodies lay mangled in the streets, he wasn’t sure what was right or wrong anymore. For the first time in his lifetime he felt like a small child, lost and confused and seeking solace. 

Raffe had gone into hiding. A secluded cave on the outskirts of the coastline. Just he and his conscious tuned to the water lapping at the entrance. He allowed his mind to feel all it could feel. His body to react as it wanted to react - he may have left a hole the size of a small crater in the side of the cave. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in the darkness, allowing his body and mind to heal. Weeks maybe? Months? The morning he decided to return to the land of the living, the sun was shining like it was today, impossibly bright and the color of soft butter that caused the ocean to sparkle like a rare jewel. The sky was a pale blue speckled with white. He didn’t realize how dead he felt until he saw the beauty all around him. It was in that moment that he decided to turn his back on his angel heritage, to be more human and live life to its fullest though that promise didn’t last long. 

“Dude! Earth to Raffe,” a voice called out, shaking Raffe from his introspection.

Raffe realized he was walking around the quad aimlessly. What had Penryn done to him? She was an unfathomable distraction. He stopped and turned toward the source of the voice, a boy with spiky ginger hair and a spattering of freckles across his nose - Dum. 

“Raffe, wait up,” Dum called running toward him across the quad his lanky extremities flailing around him making him look like a strange windmill.

“Didn’t you hear me? I’ve been chasing you around the quad for probably ten minutes.” Dum looked at him like he was stupid.

Dum and his twin brother Dee had been the first humans to befriend Raffe and he would be eternally grateful. Being an angel in the human realm was harder than he thought. He had been called his fair share of vile names and avoided by others, shunned, spit on, had garbage thrown at, even a few attempts on his life, but he considered it a privilege after all the world had been put through by his kind - by him. After weeks of being alone, wandering the city without a support group, unable to call on his brethren or the human race, Raffe had been worn thin. Angels were never meant to be solitary creatures. 

Dee-Dum, as they liked to be called, had happened upon him sleeping in an alley behind a dumpster, covered in garbage and smelling worse than the dumpster. It was a low time. He used to take what he wanted, but he didn’t even feel worthy of the abandoned apartments and houses that sat empty along the coastline, begging for an occupant. Angels always felt more than their human counterparts. Anger morphed to rage. Happiness to euphoria. Sadness to debilitating depression. The loneliness and despair was more than Raffe had ever felt. It paralyzed him.

Dee-Dum had helped him to his feet, took him to their house, a small shack on the beach, outfitted with everything the pair could need, and built him back up again. 

At first, Raffe only sat in a squat cushioned chair covered in a green woven blanket, numbly staring at a black spot on the concrete floor, never moving or talking. Dee-Dum forced his hand to grip warm mugs of soup, coffee, and tea. Their voices, distant and muffled, begged him to eat or drink. They wrapped blankets around his wings, told him about the weather outside, and asked him how he was doing. Eventually, Raffe’s strength returned, and the dark cloud that enveloped him lifted. 

Raffe blinked and looked around the room, finally seeing the place he had been staying. It was small, but comfortable. Two couches and chairs filled the center of the living room just outside the kitchen. Dee-Dum had outfitted the walls with rock band posters that looked like they had seen better days. Multi-colored rugs covered bare concrete floors. 

“Aw. He lives,” one of the boys said, sounding like Dr. Frankenstein. 

Raffe stood, gingerly stretching his long limbs and wings. He had been sitting still for a very long time.

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” the other boy said, pointing in the bathroom’s direction. 

Raffe padded down the hall like a zombie and closed the door behind him once in the bathroom. His hands gripped the white porcelain sink and looked into the mirror. He had looked better. Black smudges crossed his face and his black curls were sticking out everywhere. Raffe rinsed his face and returned to the living room, where Dee-Dum promptly handed him a bowl of dry cereal, a jar of peanut butter and a mug of steaming tea. 

They listened as Raffe told his story between mouthfuls of raisin bran and scoops of peanut butter. He explained how he turned his back on the angels. How he destroyed the Golden Gate Bridge. How someone threw boiling hot water at him, and a man tried to steal his wings with a butter knife. Dee-Dum just listened intently and nodded, never judging or commenting. When Raffe was finished, they looked at each other and back to Raffe.

“You’re going to stay with us,” Dum had said. 

“But, how do you know you can trust me?” Raffe asked.

“Look at you. You could have killed us, but you sat in that chair for weeks in a catatonic state. Don’t think a comatose angel is going to kill us,” Dum said.

“We could use you, and you can use us,” Dee added.

“First,” they said in unison, “go take a shower!” 

It was Dee-Dum that suggested Raffe go to school. 

Thrusting a flier in his face, Dee said, “Time to start your journey into humanity and school is a rite of passage for all non-winged creatures.”

“Nun-uh,” Dum countered. “Dogs have to go to obedience school.”

Dee squished up his face at his brother, “Stop being a dumb ass.”

“Make me.” Dum puffed out his chest and jutted out his chin, circling his brother like a boxer.

Raffe laughed taking the flier. School? What a strange suggestion. Of course, Raffe didn’t really need school. He was smart. He had been around since the birth of the world, and he knew all there was to know, but the thought of being around humans and doing something as simple as reading a book or taking notes made him feel human. It made him feel alive. College was just what he needed.

“Hey Raffe, why didn’t you answer me?” Dum asked again, staring at him, expecting an answer.

Raffe looked at Dum then scanned the Stanford quad again. “I didn’t hear you.”

“What’s going on with you Raffe?” Dum asked. The concern in his voice made Raffe take notice.

“It’s nothing. Something weird just happened.” Raffe thought back to Penryn. 

“Aw. Weird. That’s my specialty.” Dum said.

“What’s our specialty?” Dee asked, appearing from the other side of the quad. He looked just like Dum, but his hair was longer and swung into his eyes. Wherever Dum was Dee usually was and vice versa. 

“Weird,” Dum answered.

Dee nodded in agreement. “Yep.”

Dee-Dum flanked Raffe, both putting an arm across his wings, guiding him toward a bench. “So,” Dee said. “Tell us what happened. The counselors are in session.” 

Raffe recounted the tale of Penryn and his strange feelings. When he was finished, he looked at both boys. They looked at each other, as if communicating telepathically, and smiled. 

“You have to get to know this girl,” Dee said, Dum nodding enthusiastically in agreement.

“I agree with that, but how? I think I scared her, and I don’t think she’ll talk to me of her own accord anymore,” Raffe said. Dum was humming some song that sounded like an old tune children used to sing when teasing each other about crushes. Something about sitting in a tree.

“Leave that to us,” Dee said, mischief glinting in his green eyes. “Where’s your class schedule?” He stuck his hand out to Raffe, onto which Raffe deposited a folded piece of paper. 

The twins huddled over the schedule, looking like cross between a football team and a secret service meeting. Dum’s head shot up. “What’s up with you and all these art classes?”

“I like art,” Raffe said. “I want to learn to paint.” 

The boys snickered and went back to the schedule. They pulled out a small electronic tablet.

“What are you two doing?” Raffe asked, a little concerned that they would resort to illegal means. It wouldn’t have been their first time.

“Oh nothing,” Dee-Dum said in a sing-song voice, almost unable to stifle their guffaws.

Raffe was getting nervous watching his friends huddle over the tablet, laughing, and whispering. They looked up and handed Raffe a piece of paper just before he was about to resort to physical violence to get answers.

Raffe looked at the paper. It was his schedule, with a few minor changes. His first class was now Biology 101 instead of Art Appreciation and tomorrow’s Sculpting for Beginners had been replaced with American History. Raffe narrowed his eyes, arching his eyebrow, questioning Dee-Dum. 

“As you can see, we modified your schedule a bit. No big deal. Trust us, you will enjoy this one much more,” Dee said a teasing smile crossing his face.

“Much more,” Dum echoed. 

“You two are a mess,” Raffe said, but smiled, figuring they had solved part of his problem. He looked at his watch, ten minutes until Biology 101 started. “I’m off to dissect a frog or something. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Dee-Dum said as Raffe stood up, casually saluted them and walked off toward the Sciences Building.


End file.
